Adeladius Makwega – Mbagala
This journey was very long—almost 26 hours. In the first leg of the trip, Mwanakwetu arrived at his home village, then reached the first station and boarded another bus, paying 25,000 Tanzanian shillings (about 10 US dollars). The earlier trip he had begun had cost 65,000 Tanzanian shillings (about 26 US dollars).
Remember, my reader, Mwanakwetu was on his second journey, and before reaching his final destination he would have to take six in total. Indeed, the second journey ended, and he got off to wait for the bus for the third leg. Here he boarded a Coaster bus, which carried him to the point where he was supposed to disembark and then board transport for the fourth leg, followed by the fifth.
On this trip, Mwanakwetu got a seat next to the driver. On his left sat a very large woman—yet she was a very kind and generous motherly figure. The front row began with the driver, then Mwanakwetu, then the large woman. Mwanakwetu’s seat was slightly elevated, so his long legs dangled awkwardly. The woman beside him said:
“My goodness, sir, your legs are so long! Sitting like that, won’t you fall sick by the time you reach home? Go on, stretch your legs over here toward me.”
The large woman—kind and generous—spoke these words to Mwanakwetu. Suddenly, her phone rang:
“Yes… I’ve just come from checking on the child at school. Tomorrow is Monday, so I’ll be at work… yes, I’ll come to see you… alright… alright.”
The conductor told
the large woman, Tell that gentleman we’re asking for the fare.
She relayed the message to Mwanakwetu. He asked how much it was. After
consulting the conductor, she told him it was 4,000 Tanzanian shillings (about
one and a half US dollars in 2026). Mwanakwetu paid with two 2,000-shilling
notes.
The journey continued. Inside the vehicle, there was great silence and calm, while the conductor spoke with his assistant:
“A man passed away yesterday. We just came from burying him, and today is the third day since we opened the mourning period. That’s why when you passed on your first trip, we didn’t meet—I was at the funeral. But at that funeral, we ate so much antelope meat! I can’t remember the last time I ate it before this. There was more antelope meat than even rice. That funeral was something special.”
Didn’t the wildlife officers cause trouble? the assistant asked.
“Ah, how would they know? They thought it was beef. Besides, don’t wildlife officers attend funerals too? Even if they had known, how would they arrest people burying their loved one? We buried him while eating antelope meat.”
The conductor asked how they had gotten the antelope meat.
The assistant replied:
“Two poachers went hunting in the game reserve on their motorcycle. While out there, they were lucky enough to catch five antelopes. Fortune smiled on them that day. They hid in the bushes, cut the animals into pieces, skinned them, and crushed the heads so that if caught, no one would recognize the species. The skins were valuable for making drums, so they wrapped them well and hid them under the motorcycle seat. The meat they placed in two large baskets and began their journey home.
As they set off, heavy rain began pouring in the forest. The rain actually helped them travel a long distance without meeting anyone on the way. When they reached a village, they bought tomatoes and onions worth about 30,000 Tanzanian shillings (around 12 US dollars). They arranged the onions at the bottom and the tomatoes on top of the baskets—just in case someone became suspicious.
They knew the route well. But because of the heavy rain, the seasonal rivers had swollen. As they traveled, they heard another motorcycle speeding behind them. They assumed it was wildlife officers who had become suspicious of their baskets. Perhaps someone from the village where they bought tomatoes and onions had informed the officers.
The men sped across a river. But the strong current swept them away. The one sitting atop the basket managed to grab a tree branch. The first branch snapped and fell into the water, but the second held, and he climbed up and stayed silent in the tree.
The motorcycle, the driver, the baskets of antelope meat, tomatoes, and onions—all were carried away by the water.
When the wildlife officers arrived outside the game reserve, they saw the motorcycle tracks leading into the river—but no people. Had they crossed miraculously? The officers turned back toward the reserve.
The man hiding in the tree waited until they left. Then he climbed down and followed the riverbank, but found nothing. He reported the incident—not to the village where they bought the vegetables, but to another nearby village closer to home. People came to search for their relative and the motorcycle.
After much searching, they found the body of the man—already dead. They also found the motorcycle and the baskets containing tomatoes, onions, and antelope meat. The proper procedures were followed, and the funeral was arranged. My friends, we ate antelope meat for three days.”
Mwanakwetu reached his stop, while the bus continued its journey. He then disembarked and began his sixth and final leg to reach his destination.
What does Mwanakwetu say today?
Truly, you might think that in your hunting today, God has blessed you—that you have caught many animals, that fortune has visited you. Yet the very hunt you celebrate may be preparing the stew for your own funeral.
Mwanakwetu, are you there? Remember:
“The Stew for Your Own Funeral.”
I wish you a good day.
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